Cadenabbia. CADENABBIA. LAKE OF COMO. sound of wheels or hoof-beat breaks The silence of the summer day, As by the loveliest of all lakes I I while the idle hours away. pace the leafy colonnade At times a sudden rush of air By Somariva's garden gate I make the marble stairs my seat, And hear the water, as I wait, Lapping the steps beneath my feet. The undulation sinks and swells Tinkle upon the fisher's nets. Silent and slow, by tower and town The hills sweep upward from the shore And dimly seen, a tangled mass Of walls and woods, of light and shade, Stands beckoning up the Stelvio Pass Varenna with its white cascade. I ask myself, Is this a dream? Sweet vision! Do not fade away; And all the beauty of the lake. Linger until upon my brain Is stamped an image of the scene, Then fade into the air again, And be as if thou hadst not been. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. SAVE Cannæ. CANNE. AVE where Garganus, with low-ridgéd bound, Protects the north, the eye outstretching far Surveys one sea of gently swelling ground, A fitly moulded "Orchestra of War." Here Aufidus, between his humble banks The long-horned herds enjoy the cool delight, Sleeping half-merged, to shun the deep sun-glow, Which, that May-morning, dazed the Roman sight, But fell innocuous on the subtler foe. We feel the wind upon our bosoms beat, That whilom dimmed with dust those noble eyes, And rendered aimless many a gallant feat, And brought disgrace on many a high emprise. And close beside us rests the ancient well, The friend and follower of wise Fabius lay; Here fainting lay, compelled by fate to share Shame not his own, — here spurned the scanty time Still left for flight, lest, living he might bear Hard witness to his colleague's generous crime. I have seen many fields where men have fought Lord Houghton. Capri, the Island. CAPRI. WHAT the mountainous Isle Seen in the South? "T is where a monster dwelt, So subtle, were the tortures they endured. Say to the noblest, be they where they might, Samuel Rogers. CAPRI. HERE is an isle, kissed by a smiling sea, THERE Where all sweet confluents meet: a thing of heaven, A spent aërolite, that well may be The missing sister of the starry Seven. And in its lap is naught of earthly leaven. "Tis small, as things of beauty ofttimes are, They call the island Capri, with a name Is clogged with body palpable, — and Fame Hath long while winged the word from pole to pole. Its human story is a tale of shame, Of all unnatural lusts a gory scroll, Record of what, when pomp and power agree, Terrace and slope from shore to summit show |